the manor burned
by eponay
Summary: Set after ep 3, added scene after D'Artagnan had rescued Athos from the burning house. How Athos deals with the revelation that his wife is not dead. Mostly angst, hopeful by the end I promise..


The manor burned

Set after ep 3, added scene after D'Artagnan had rescued athos from the burning building. Like how does athos just go ok the next morning, and on his horse. I imagine he had some crap to do deal with. Yes this is mostly angst, hopeful by the end I promise..

Athos lay silently beside D'Artagnan. He had passed out shortly after d'Artagnan had recue him, more precisely after he had begged D'Artagnan for answer to his misery, and now he had woken.

The moon still and brilliant white, lit D'Artagnan's small camp, that was nothing more than a fire that had smouldered down to embers and a few blankets. The boy slept on. Strange to owe some much to someone so young. If d'artagnan had not called out, he surely would have drown in smoke and sorrow. She was alive. God. His eyes were red. Worse yet he was sober. He sat up quietly. The awful glow of his ruined manor was inescapable. Athos stood and walked toward the imposing façade. The manor's thick oak beams and supports had burnt black, but not through. A shell of a house remained.

He walked through what would have been the front door. The upper floors had fallen in, the stairs gone. Athos stood stock still as the memories came, milady walking up the stairs hand in hand with his brother. He closed his eyes and forced the memories away. He walked on through the ruin and then kicked out the cellar door. The wine was probably ruined. Father's best vintage, how disappointing. Still worth a look he reasoned, carried on down the unsteady burnt stair case that threatened collapse with his every step. He cast aside several damaged bottles, but there in the back, a bottle of true beauty had survived. An ornate blue bottle of brandy. Athos took a swig of the amber liquor , before climbing out, pleased he had been able to save at least this.

There was nothing else.

Athos had taken his want from the house long before abandoning it to fate.

Climbing out of the wrecked house Athos stumbled away. Drawn forwards with his bottle towards the hill and the tree that haunted his dreams. He staggered to the ground at the foot of the tree.

She had wanted to erase the past.

Athos watched the past play out again: her eyes sparked with fear, the plea in her eyes, and the white of her throat changing red under the strain of the noose. The sound of the drop. His own feet as he walked away, crushing the long grass.

Yet.

She lived.

And how many would die in her wake?

His servant the loyal man. Dead.

He remember her skin porcelain and her words cruel: revenge, she said. The twist of that word marred her features with a madness and a rage, athos could not fathom the depths of. But she had held him still, she had brought the knife to his throat and he had begged with all his being for her to finish what she had begun. He was hers as surely as he had ever been. Instead she had wrapped her arms around him.

Did she love him?

His fingers strayed across the necklace once more. His mind clear as he recalled her fingers clutching tightly the blue flowers from long ago. Forget me nots. Athos could never forget her. Even if he wanted to he could not. He drank deeply from the brandy. He loved her.

He was as powerless to change this as the moon to defy the raising of the sun.

And he hated himself for it.

He hated himself for many things. Things that he should have stopped and have never allowed to happen. His heart had led him to horror. Her love had damaged him like a wound that would never close over but instead festered inside his mind, and heart.

But he loved this cut like a misguided dog who returns to the one who beats him.

Even though it had cost him his honour, his friends, even though it might cost him his heart forever.

Athos knelt at the foot of the tree and wept as he had not for years.

Milady de winter lived.

And surely would met again.

X

Dawn brought the cries of birds, Athos woke exhausted but strangely relieved. After he dunked his in a bucket of water drawn from the well. He walked back to D'Artagnan's camp.

The young one stirred at his approach.

"Athos?' Sleepy trusting eyes greeted him, athos bent to pick up his leather armour, hoping to god that he could be worthy of such trust, as he strapped it up.

"Come we must go, Porthos and Arimis will need our help." He could at least do his duty, he owed the others that much.

The boy stirred and collected himself. they mounted in the grey light and made for the village.

As they cantered away, d'artagnan asked, concern in his eyes, "athos are you alright?"

The hulking ruin of his ancestral home faded behind them, Athos found himself able to answer truthfully, "I am well enough D'Artagnan," he paused and a some of that old pain tried to leak through, Athos hid it quickly behind his usual indifferent mask, "but if you could make no mention of this to others."

"Of course. you have my word."

d


End file.
